


Letter to Mercy

by caplico



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: AU - Normal World, Gen, collecting envelopes, comatose boys with issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caplico/pseuds/caplico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ll be going home in a couple of weeks”, his father stated, a concerned smile pinned on his face by the corners of his lips. Home sounded like a very tempting thing, except for the fact that he didn't know what to expect of home, or what is home, and what is a comatose fantasy buried under the hard soil and metal plates.</p>
<p>recovering from a terrible accident, a student and a stamp collector named SHINJI IKARI sends a letter to a place from his dreams</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter to Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of like the 'normalverse' of nge from the later episodes, however it is only loosely based off of it  
> some of the characters may and will be interpreted differently than in the anime due to a setting change
> 
> EDIT:  
> JESUS WHAT HAPPENED OMG....... THANK U ALL FOR THE KUDOS

His eyes suddenly opened and breathing normalized. For once Shinji Ikari inhaled air, even though tainted with the scent of the hospital, still air. It differed a lot from the disgustingly bitter liquid that seeped into his lungs every time he was forced into a giant humanoid mechanism.

Shinji closed his eyes once again trying to recollect the course of events. His leg shivered briefly as he turned his head to the side, facing the wall, hiding from the rest of the white room. Walls don’t speak words, walls don’t hurt you, walls don’t make you choke on orange liquid and force you upon a battlefield. Walls aren't substitutes for your mother or father, because both of them are in the reception room, clinging to each other desperately, nearly tearing the fabric of their own clothes.

The deep breathing in and out strategy backfired on the dark-haired boy as a striking pain hit his ribs. Maybe he wasn’t ready for deep breathing yet, maybe he needed to take it slower, maybe he would feel lots better and much more comfortable if the doctors weren't making as much noise as they were.

“Ikari. Shinji Ikari, can you hear me?”, one of them said. His face was masked and in his hand he held a small flash light, shining on the boy’s drained face. And that moment Shinji would love to say “No, I am deaf”, but instead he just flinched and nodded weakly, noticing that his tongue went completely numb. He shifted in his bed just as he was stopped by that same doctor, raving on about “staying safe” and “recovering”. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t care about staying safe, he wanted out. And to his joy, the doctor left, along with his crew, exchanging data with each other on their way out.

He sighed, wishing hopefully that maybe now he may finally rest from all the exhausting laying in bed he’s done, just as he is greeted by incoming faces. His mother is in tears, her face red, to match the colour of her corneas. His father looked no better, with his unshaven stubble and a worried, yet relieved expression on his face, as if the current situation is still bad, but it’s been much worse before. But his sister was not there. He looked in all the corners of the room and all the places in his mind, just to find that she was hiding behind lavender hair.

Shinji’s mom held his hand tightly, cutting off the blood flow to his fingers with her grip, pressing it to her face, and repeating “Shinji. Shinji, my boy” until her throat went dry, so in the end she just held it. Gendo had his hands laying on Shinji’s head and Yui’s shoulder. His touch irradiated with emotion, something so unfamiliar to Shinji.

“You’ll be going home in a couple of weeks”, his father stated, a concerned smile pinned on his face by the corners of his lips. Home sounded like a very tempting thing, except for the fact that he didn’t know what to expect of home, or what is home, and what is a comatose fantasy buried under the hard soil and metal plates.

They left soon after, and he lied there in silence, staring up at the ceiling, trying to understand what was missing.

 

 

* * *

A girl showed up, dressed in a neat school uniform, carrying her school bag in front of her body. Behind her a redhead lingered silently, a white envelope in her hands, almost hiding behind the other. Both of their faces were marred with worry. They stood beside the bed, waiting for a reaction from the boy. Shinji flinched and turned his head towards them, eyeing both of them up and down. As he opened his mouth to speak, the brunette interrupted him with her own words.

“I’m glad you’re okay”, she said, and that moment she looked like more their mother than any other time, “I know it’s a silly thing to say considering you still got hurt very badly but...”

She trailed off, a weak smile poised on her pale face. The red head came up behind the girl, stuttering and choking out words out of her tense and dry throat.

“Ah, um, well,” she fiddled around with the envelope, before stretching her hand out toward the boy. “It came in today. The letter you sent a while back...”

Shinji hesitantly took the envelope into his hands. It was such an odd hobby of his. This letter was written to a man in England, asking about his daughter Mari and his wife of many years now. However the man never existed and neither did his wife or his daughter or the city that the letter was sent to. The dark haired boy smiled, as he brushed his finger over the creases of the envelope.

“Thank you Asuka,” he said, deliberately trying not to meet eyes with the redhead, “You too, Rei. Thank you.” The girls nodded each at their own tempo. They took turns asking typical questions such as ‘do you remember this’ and ‘do you know who this is’, and telling him stories of their lives while he was not present, which just made him wonder how long he was asleep.

The door creaked and he was once again left in a room, facing the wall.

 

 

* * *

Physical therapy was hell, and the doctor was trying too hard to be nice and helpful and understanding, but she couldn’t spare a pen for a person who will be traumatized for most of his life, and that trauma take a form of multiple scars on his body. Paper was scarce, which was odd since the only thing that the doctors did in this place was read multiple pages of reports on patients written in Arial Narrow with the font size of eight. No more letters, he thought.

He usually got out at three, and regaining his ability to move around freely he often sat in the backyard of the building, watching other people sit alone, wallowing in their own melancholy.

“Ikari? Shinji Ikari?”, he heard a gentle female voice behind himself, and half-smiled, half-cringed at it as he remembered her citrus-smelling hands and he soft touch of her blood-stained lips, once, yet seemingly a long time ago.

“M-miss Katsuragi? What are you doing here?”, he stuttered, looking down and around, reminding himself that it’s all over now, it’s all gone.

“I was just visiting. I’ve heard about what happened. At first I thought you were skipping school, but I thought it was odd since you were such a good student”, the woman chuckled to herself, and soon Shinji gave into the temptations of the sympathy gene and cracked a smile himself. “I’m sorry about what happened, Shinji.”

His smile faded at the word sorry. He moved his head around, popping his neck. A reminder of his long sleep and harsh awakening. The boy brushed away his overgrown bangs away from his face. And as she handed him paper, envelopes and a pen he almost thanked her by her first name, but abruptly stopped himself, trying hard to let go of something long gone now. No more dreams, no more traumatizing cockpits filled with orange liquid, tasting of iron and death, leaving him strongly biased against orange juice.

Shinji ran off to his hospital room, leaving Katsuragi there by herself, while she just sighed in relief that the boy was awake and walking. He sat on his bed, using his knee as a hard writing surface and scratched with a pen on his envelope,

 

 

“To: Nagisa Kaworu

From: Ikari Shinji”.

* * *

No one ever wrote back. It was expected, since he sent letters to non-existent addresses to receive the letter back. He had a collection of those, stapled to the wall in his room right above his bed, all marked with the same “adressant not found” stamp. He had letters returned from many countries and Shinji took great pride in his collection and secretly, so did most of his family.

The dark-haired boy’s hand was sore and he was tired. He sighed as he held a sealed envelope, awaiting his father to pick it up.

 

 

* * *

“How are you, Shinji?”, she asked, putting a lock of her hair which kept getting in her face behind her ear. He was getting more and more used to this image of her.

“A lot better. Thank you for visiting me.”

"No, no, it’s okay”, she giggled, “Asuka couldn’t come today, she says she’s busy making something.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really mind.”

She changed. Both of them did. Or he just changed. Or he just remembers different people, and failing to piece some things together. He is getting more adjusted to both of them, with time. After all, he spent more time awake than asleep in his life.

Nothing could be done at this point.

He kept telling himself that this reality is better, the other is bitter, and even if there is only a difference of one letter, there was also a difference of the colour of her hair and eyes.

 

* * *

Doctor Akagi was cruel and heartless when it came to recovery. She did, of course, try to sympathize with him, but at times Shinji felt as if she was training him to be a football player instead of getting him into a very ‘ok’ and normalized condition. She was dressed up in a pair of sweatpants and a loose sweatshirt. No makeup, no glasses. She was very unlike the lady he seen around NERV. Doctor Akagi was better in the this world though, he admitted to himself. She carried less bitterness in her heart, but he never really knew her well enough to say for sure.

They were running laps outside today. Pushing a boy who couldn’t walk for days way past his limit was indeed a genius idea.

“Keep up”, the woman blew her whistle as she deliberately sped up, making it more difficult for Shinji to catch up to her. She was merciless, and she sure tried to let everyone know of that. The boy muttered something under his breath as he struggled to overcome his loss of stamina and lack of motivation to run up to Akagi.

She was a fit woman, taller than he remembered her to be. She looked a great deal younger too. Her face was healthier and her skin tone was tanner than before. Maybe it was because she no longer worked with computers. Or maybe she did, as a hobby in her spare time, but he could only guess (however he loved to pretend that he knew things like that for sure, to give himself a sense of superiority over others).

The heat stung Shinji’s skin. He was unaccustomed to sunlight, having spent a week in the hospital (plus the time he spent there asleep). Sweat streamed down from his forehead and he felt as if he took another step he would have a leg spasm.

Ritsuko reluctantly let the fatigued boy sit down on a bench. Shinji sighed with relief as he jumped onto it, Doctor Akagi sat beside him soon after.

“You seem very out of it today”, she stated, trying to fake a concerned look. But Shinji saw past that, and he saw past her fake sympathy and he almost said ‘You don’t have to say you’re sorry about what happened if you don’t want to’, but instead came back with a simple ”Do I?”.

The blonde woman nodded, smirking. He knew that smirk. It meant something was on her mind. Particularly something that she did not want to share, that was solely hers and she wanted to keep it to herself. He saw it often. She was a quiet person and he figured that some things just never really change.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You...”, he paused, sorting his thoughts into two neat drawers, ‘acceptable’ and ‘not really’ and his thoughts came from the depth of the latter section, so he searched for a compromising reply, “You remind me of an old friend of mine.”

“At least not an enemy”, she mocked him with that cruel smirk of hers.

“All of my friends turned out to be my enemies later on.”

The woman scoffed loudly, surprised to hear such statements from a boy who was still in middle school. She assumed that it was a thing all teenagers say because they think they know so much about 'real' friendship and 'real' betrayal and the 'real' world, and thought that she, as an adult had a right to show off her knowledge. However this Ritsuko was clueless about the topic of betrayal. The Ritsuko that understood the concept wore red lipstick and drowned in her own sorrow (which took the physical shape of LCL).

They went on with their jog, both silent, as if holding a hidden grudge against each other.

 

 

* * *

Her red, almost orange hair often associated with the liquid, which in his head connected to choking, which once again came back to her.

Asuka sat on a tall stool beside the boy, dangling her feet in the air, while the Shinji sat up in his hospital bed, gazing up on the ceiling.

“Two more days, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m going to try and sleep through them.”

“No way, no more sleeping!”, she exclaimed, jokingly punching him in the shoulder before both of them break into a light laughter. “You have no idea how worried all of us were. And if you got hurt they would probably send me back to Germany.”

At times the boy forgets that Asuka is just a transfer student, not a permanent resident of Japan, and not technically a part of their family. But it was only March, however a time will come when they will have to say goodbye and he will have to let go of her hand which held so much memories of a never-existing place.

 

 

* * *

Meanwhile, pen viciously scratched against paper.

 

 

* * *

A wide and colourful “Welcome Back” poster hung on the wall. It was the first thing that had caught Shinji’s attention as he walked into the house. His eyes darted towards the people clapping for him as he stood behind the entrance door with Doctor Akagi beside him. They spoke in many different voices of many different things, but he was so glad to be back he just smiled at thanked everybody for coming. It was a very nice feeling, having a party thrown for you, even if it’s for such a morbid thing as leaving the hospital after an incident. Yet, it still gave Shinji a sense of self-worth and appreciation.

Misato and Doctor Akagi left very shortly after the beginning of the small event. And soon, without much conversation, the residents of the Ikari household parted their ways and scattered themselves around the house. The bed was fresh and tempting, and the sheets were cool against his skin. Shinji collapsed onto the bed and dreamt of noise.

 

 

* * *

Shinji was unfit for waking up early. Schools were obviously made for early-birds who are ready to swallow every word in every textbook there is, along with textbooks themselves. He knew it was an overstatement, but he just felt so awfully foreign in his own school (much unlike Asuka, who settled in and got comfortable in it extremely rapidly).

He forced himself out of the comfort of his bed, dragging his heavy body up and into the bathroom. He stuck his body in his clothes, still way too loose. His pants awkwardly sagged on his knees and ankles. He sighed as he headed towards the door, disregarding breakfast. The other students residing in his house followed by example and left, following after the brunette boy.

 

 

* * *

“A new student will be joining us today!”, Miss Katsuragi exclaimed folding her arms, and nodding toward the new student. A cue for him to introduce himself

“I, um...”, the boy fidgeted, staring down into the ground, making his voice barely audible. His face was covered by hair the colour of paper, which already caused much disturbance in the class. “I am pleased to meet you.’

He extended down into a shy half-bow as the woman directed him towards his seat near the back of the class. Shinji eyed down the boy, whose maroon eyes met the dark haired male. The albino’s face did not go with his behaviour very much. He seemed gentle, scared, cautious. Someone you would pity for their lack of social knowledge. The light haired boy sat down in his seat silently and the lesson (at last) began.

 

 

* * *

He left class first, never looking back, never returning. But it seemed as if he wanted to reach out towards Shinji, as if some distant emotions lingered that neither of them could understand.

 

 

* * *

“To: Ikari Shinji

From: Nagisa Kaworu”

* * *

Their faces seemed worried. Concerned, even. No one ever wrote back. But an envelope sent back to him was received just today morning. The boy tore the piece of folded paper out of his parents hands, locking himself in his room.

 

 

* * *

He wrote back.

 

 

* * *

A pair of red eyes met Shinji’s.

“I-Ikari, please don’t stare at me like that anymore.” It was a plead. The tone was pleading, desperate, nearly traumatised. It would be hard being born with white hair in a country such as Japan, the boy’s worries were very understandable.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to make fun of me. Please don’t do that.”

The conversation ended abruptly as the boy left. He did not seem to like small talks very much. Shinji listened to the red-eyed boy's footsteps as he left, holding out his hand and making small moves with his fingers, as if to grasp something he lost.

 

 

* * *

The sound of ambulances echoed throughout the school. Teacher ran around with their worry-stained faces, commanding kids to stay calm while someone was choking on their own blood while they spilled tears over a person they didn’t really know.

 

 

* * *

It turned out to be a neck fracture.

 

 

* * *

Another letter arrived today.

 

 

* * *

‘Dear Kaworu,

How are you? It’s been awhile since I visited Tokyo-3. How is life treating you? Do you still play the piano like you used to? I’d love to hear you play again.

As for me, well, life is a mess. I’m laying here in the hospital, and my head is a mess. Who knew that comatose dreams can be so disturbing? I don't remember very much of it, I remember a lot of orange though.

You were in that dream too. I can’t remember who you were exactly, but I remember hearing your name and your piano. I miss you alot. Please write back.

 

                                                                                                                                                     Sincerely, Ikari Shinji.’

Sealed and sent to an address not currently existing.

 

 

* * *

‘Dearest Shinji,

I missed hearing from you. It’s been a long time since we parted ways. I am doing good, as always. Still making music, living the life. Not really ‘the life’, but close enough. It would be better with you around.

Sorry to hear about your troubles, I hope you are okay. How did you end up in the hospital? You mentioned comatose dreams. Were you in a coma? For how long? Seeing that you are awake right now, I'm assuming that it's all past that now..

My life is currently a mess too. Us parting ways left a great impact on me. However, I am much better now. Still recovering from that unfortunate accident. Pity that such things happen. Do you remember that? Please write back.

                                                                                                                                                     Love, Nagisa Kaworu.’

Sent to the return address.

 

 

* * *

‘Dear Kaworu,

This is extremely bizarre, no one ever writes back. Moreover, every adressant is a non-existent persona, and a resident of a non-existent city.. I am sorry for the misconception, please forget that anything ever happened.

                                                                                                                                                     Sincerely, Ikari Shinji.’

Sealed and sent back.

 

 

* * *

‘Dearest Shinji,

There was no misconception at all! I don’t know what you are talking about at all, don't’ you remember how we met? Was everything in the last letter staged?

Do you remember telling me that I was destined to die of a neck fracture? Or how I told you that we will meet again the day we parted?

I hope everything clears up. I miss you Shinji. Please write back.

                                                                                                                                                     Love, Nagisa Kaworu.’

A picture of two teenage boys hugging was enclosed. One had white hair and was slightly taller than the other. The other boy had dark hair and tan skin.

 

 

* * *

Kaworu Nagisa confirmed dead. Soon after, health complications arise for Shinji.

He is forced back into the hospital as he slips back into a comatose state.

 

 

* * *

“I told you that we’ll meet again.”

They did, and the only thing they talked about that moment is the inconvenience of having physical bodies restricting the human kind.

**Author's Note:**

> based off of evgeny petrov's death  
> for more information about the original course of events please watch the movie Envelope  
> written in the last minutes of shinji's birthday, happy ageing to the birthday boy  
> by far not my best work and i am planning on re-writing it


End file.
